


Coming Home

by mezzo_cammin



Category: Dawson's Creek, Thoughtcrimes (2003)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezzo_cammin/pseuds/mezzo_cammin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Brendan went down on his knees for Vincent, just slid down Vincent's body like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do, there was raucous laughter and pounding on the flimsy cabin door, the only thing separating them from the rest of the longboat crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

The first time Brendan went down on his knees for Vincent, just slid down Vincent's body like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do, there was raucous laughter and pounding on the flimsy cabin door, the only thing separating them from the rest of the longboat crew. 

The boat had been secured to the dock for less than ten minutes when Brendan had appeared on the deck, flashing his ID to get past dock security. He looked very official in his suit and his tie, shoulder holster just barely visible, and they let him through without question. About two minutes after that, Brendan had herded Vincent past the three bemused crew members in the break area and into the first empty room he could find, a tiny storeroom where they kept coffee and ibuprofen and other essentials, pulling Vincent into his arms with a desperate hunger that left Vincent breathless and unable to protest.

Three weeks. Three long weeks of putting up with shit from the crew, freak storms, no sleep and aching loneliness, and now Brendan was here, smelling like home, and he was running his hands over Vincent's body and tilting Vincent's head with shaking hands so he could angle their mouths together for a hungry kiss and just like that, Vincent was hard.

"God, Vincent," Brendan was muttering as he ran his hands under Vincent's shirt, up over his chest, thumbs rubbing over his nipples, nails digging in just that little bit, exactly the way Vincent liked it. Brendan crowded him against the wall, just a few short feet from the door, and mouthed and nipped at his neck as he rasped, "You have no idea what - how much I - dammit, but I've missed you," he growled.

Which was, of course, when the guys started in with their juvenile whistling and high-pitched catcalls and sing-songing, "Uh-ooooh, Vin-cent's in trou-ble!" as they knocked on the door, and Vincent thunked his head back against the wall, scowling, sure that Brendan would close up shop and pull back and be ready to leave. Only, no. Not so much. It seemed Brendan had other plans, which included pressing the heel of his hand against Vincent's cock, right before he dropped to his knees in front of him, something that Brendan had only ever done before in Vincent's fantasies.

Brendan ignored their would-be audience, intent on pulling Vincent's jeans down to his knees and then mouthing Vincent's cock through the thin cotton of his boxers. Vincent shuddered and pushed both arms against the unlocked door, muscles straining to keep it from crashing open as shoulders were rammed against it, followed by more good-natured laughing and catcalls. He looked down just as Brendan lowered the waistband of his boxers to rest right beneath Vincent's balls. Brendan slid both his hands along the length of Vincent's cock, pushing and pulling and twisting, reacquainting himself with every contour, rubbing the slit against his lips until they were glossed with Vincent's precome.

Licking his lips, eyes closed, Brendan took a noisy, deep breath through his nose and sucked Vincent down. All of him. Vincent felt the head of his cock hit the back of Brendan's throat and keep going, felt his shaft surrounded by wet, hot suction. He was dimly aware that Brendan's arms were around his thighs, holding him up, and Brendan's hands were crossed over his ass, kneading, pulling him forward, but all he really knew in that moment were the guttural noises Brendan was making, the heat and the wet and the suction, the silkiness of Brendan's tongue sliding against the underside of his cock.

He pushed, and Brendan took him in even deeper. He tried to pull back, and Brendan's arms tightened around his thighs. Sometimes, Vincent forgot that Brendan was a highly-trained government agent, that Brendan was fucking strong, and then Brendan would do something like this, immobilize him with ease, and Vincent would get even harder and the need to be fucking owned like this would ratchet up another notch, and he would be two seconds away from losing control, like right now, with Brendan's nose buried in Vincent's pubic hair.

All Vincent could see at this angle was the top of Brendan's head as Brendan knelt in front of him and the side of his face when Brendan tilted his head to get an even better angle. Vincent took his hands away from the door then, because he needed to touch that hollow in Brendan's cheek, needed to wipe the moisture from the corner of Brendan's eye, needed, God, he needed to feel the softness of Brendan's hair as he threaded his fingers through it while he came and came and came down Brendan's throat. 

Luckily, Brendan's back was against the door now, and the other fishermen had wandered away as more friends and family boarded the boat to welcome the crew home. Luckily, because Vincent really, really didn't think he was capable, at that very second, of doing more than just breathing in and out. He felt Brendan's hands stroking the backs of his thighs, felt Brendan's tongue lazily circling his cock, felt him swallowing, again and again, and in that moment, for the first time, Brendan was Vincent's entire world, his entire universe. 

His home.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment porn written for a 'first-time' prompt at Brendan_Vincent.


End file.
